


Wreck of the Day

by Chelle1117



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelle1117/pseuds/Chelle1117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These moments are few and far between, so she takes them when she can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wreck of the Day

Elizabeth tilts her face into the breeze that floats in off the currents of the Lantean ocean and breathes deep the cleansing sea air.

It's quiet, for once.

These moments are few and far between, so she takes them when she can.

She closes her eyes, and takes another deep breath. She wonders briefly what she'd be doing on Earth had Jackson not found the eighth symbol, had General O'Neill not given the okay for the mission, and had she second guessed herself because she couldn't tell Simon where she was going. It's only a thought, not even brought to fruition, because imagining herself any place but on Atlantis is unfathomable. Does she miss Earth? Yes, all the time; often she wishes she could go home. But she knows that right now, she belongs on Atlantis.

There's a contingent among the expedition for whom this assignment is just that—an assignment. They think of themselves as Earthlings on a mission, and have no doubt that they'll be returning when the mission is accomplished or their tour of duty is up. There are others, though, for whom Atlantis is the very definition of home. They are the ones who live and breathe the air here and think nothing of Earth. They are the ones who complained that Earth days were never long enough. They are the ones whose misfit days are done.

John.

Rodney.

Radek.

Lt. Cadman.

And so many others she's run across in her daily dealings in the city.

She doesn't count herself among those, however.

There are others who love it here, who find peace here, but never quite lose their ties to Earth. People like Carson and Major Lorne. Like them, she'll always be of the Milky Way, but Atlantis will do quite nicely until she has to return home.

She lets her head fall back, and relaxes her shoulders. She feels the tension bleeding out of her as the wind blows through her hair and along the planes of her face.

She sighs.

The doors behind her slide open on a hiss, and part of her prepares to head back inside. She straightens.

"Don't do that on my account," a gruff voice whispers behind her. Then there are soft footfalls and a body leans against the railing next to hers.

"Colonel Caldwell," she says, a smile playing about her mouth.

He stares out over the water, frown marring his brow.

She observes him a moment and thinks it's a good thing he never actually took over as military commander of Atlantis. She has no doubt he's an excellent commander, but he's not for Atlantis—not like Col. Sheppard. She says as much to him.

"I like this city, Dr. Weir. I do. I wouldn't have taken command of the Daedalus if I didn't. But you're right. I hate to admit it because, by all accounts, he should have fallen on his ass by now, but Sheppard is doing a remarkable job out here. He fits here in a way I don't think I'd ever want to."

She smiles. She knows what he means. "It's a nice place to visit," she says.

"But I wouldn't want to live here, no."

They're quiet for a moment, and the acoustics of the city are just as sensitive outside as they are inside. Despite being hundreds of feet in the air above the waves licking the edges of the city, she hears the sound of the ocean as though it were right in front of her, a calming presence.

He takes a deep breath. "I can see the appeal of the place. This view alone," he sweeps his arm out over the rail, indicating the city and the sea beyond. "Being in charge here must be, at times, like herding cats, though." He turns to her, smile gracing his features, and she thinks he looks softer somehow. He should smile more often.

She turns back to the ocean. "Sometimes." Her eyes close again, and she lets them, knowing he's watching her but unself-conscious about it. "That's why I take these moments when I can."

She feels his eyes on her, knows he's looked at her this way several times. She's tempted to confront him about it, but right at the moment, she really doesn't care. And she's just a little afraid that he won't deny it, that he'll make an invitation that she won't be able to refuse. Therefore she lets it go. Then he speaks again.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," he says and places his hand over hers on the rail.

She breathes in deeply again, and this time the air is tinged with his aftershave, something aquatic and blue, fresh and clean. She looks at him, and turns her hand over in his. "You're not," she says, clearly. "You didn't."

He looks down at their hands, and she thinks he's going to let go. She finds herself disappointed at the thought. But he doesn't. He just twines his fingers with hers and turns back to the vast ocean in front of them. "Good," he says, and the silence falls between them again.

  


  
  
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